


Destiny is not a matter of chance, it's a matter of choice

by Columbarius13



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, M/M, Pining, Vampires, vampire detecting French Canadians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Columbarius13/pseuds/Columbarius13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidney didn't believe in vampires until he actually met one and even then, took some convincing. But why wouldn't vampires like hockey and want hockey boys too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny is not a matter of chance, it's a matter of choice

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of dubious consent as one character tries to force another to do things he doesn't want to do. If anyone wants to advise on stronger/more specific warnings, happy to accept comments. 
> 
> I've also resurrected the New Orleans Brass, and promoted them to the NHL. 
> 
> I've followed no specific vampire mythology, although probably been influenced by lots! But basically, I've invented vampires which fit within this story. Similarly, you'll look in vain for specific Quebec mythology about vampires. But since in my head, all vampires have French accents, that was just too convenient. 
> 
> Thanks to holesinthesky for the invaluable beta and for hand-holding and enthusiasm and support and reassuring me that it wasn't all rubbish. Find her at [Tumblr](http://theresholesinthesky.tumblr.com)
> 
> And my own [Tumblr](http://whiteneckedjacobin.tumblr.com)

The connection is instant. There’s a thrill across the air when they exchange glances, a sizzling promise of something… later. Sid finds himself drawn in, moving to stand next to him at the bar. 

The man says nothing, just tilts his head and raises an interrogatory eyebrow. God, he’s gorgeous, the low light catching the austere planes of his face, the large vivid eyes. Sid swallows, mouth suddenly gone dry. He feels the guy’s eyes follow the movement of his throat. 

“Mind if I join you?” Some day Sid will be able to manage less cheesy, awkward lines.. he hopes. 

The guy smiles briefly in response. 

“Sure,” Even on that one word, his voice is sultry and deep. Of course it is. Everything about this guy is sexy. 

“My name’s Sidney….” he pauses, waiting. Down here, little chance of being recognised. New Orleans is not a hockey town, and Sid is relatively anonymous here. It’s why he comes to this bar, tonight. 

“Philippe,” It’s almost a growl, Sid feels it all the way to his bones. But there’s an accent there also.. familiar and not familiar at the same time. 

“Are you French?” he asks. 

“It’s complicated,” Philippe replies, mouth quirking as though he’s amused. Sid looks at him more closely, taking in the astonishing dark blue eyes, golden, tanned skin, slash of red, red lips. Long lean body… 

Philippe leans closer to Sid, murmurs into his ear. “Turn around.” Sid finds himself doing it, can’t stop himself obeying that command, doesn’t even think about it. He shivers. 

“What..?”

Philippe smiles at him. “You were checking me out, it’s only fair I get to do the same”. Sid feels his face heat slightly.. he wasn’t that obvious. Surely? 

“And?” 

“Very nice… I like what I see. I would like to see more.” He catches Sid’s gaze, holds it with those eyes, dark and intense. 

Sid wants. Sid wants that so badly, the desire and need hitting him suddenly, flaring up, knees weakening at the thought. He trembles, knows that Philippe sees it from the smile on his face. Philippe leans forward again, breath against his ear. 

“I would like to do more. To play with you until you are begging and pleading with me, and you don’t know if you are begging me to stop or to keep going....” 

Sid can’t speak, can’t think, just wants that so badly, so much. To wipe out everything else that happened tonight, to do that with Philippe, now. Philippe touches his face, draws a finger across his cheekbone and down across his lips, his gaze fixed on Sidney, sensual and demanding. Sidney can’t stop trembling, knows Philippe can feel that from their contact. Sidney licks at Philippe’s fingertip; Philippe closes his glorious eyes, concentrating on Sid’s mouth on his finger. 

“Sidney.. such a sweet mouth. Such a good boy, wanting it so much aren’t you? I am going to see how much you want it, how much you can take…” Sid swallows, feeling hyper sensitive, craving. So much desire from so little...

“Come with me.” His hand slips down, reaches for Sid’s hand, cool firm hand enclosing Sid’s hot, trembling one, draws him away from the bar, towards the exit. 

As they do, the phone in Sid’s pocket vibrates.. and he’s almost so far gone, he ignores it. Let someone else deal tonight. But he’s captain and his team are away from home doing god knows what and they lost and he just can’t, and he murmurs an apology towards Philippe when he pulls it out to check it. It’s from Geno. 

_Sid where u? Want ice cream? (((((((((((((_

Sid’s surprised. Geno doesn’t take losses well, disappears into a hole from which they wait for him to emerge. And tonight - well Geno’s penalty gave the Brass the opportunity for the game winning goal. So to have Geno reaching out and wanting company, wanting support… Philippe tugs at his hand insistently, pulling him close, and Sid is drawn back into the here and now and away from thoughts of Geno. He feels Philippe’s gaze on him, feels that pulse of want/desire/need, melting him. Philippe leans down, brushes his lips against Sid’s, lips warm and sensual and Sid’s lips tingling and buzzing in response. 

“I want to make you mine,” he whispers against Sid’s lips. But Sid is reminded by that of Geno, who is his, and needs him too tonight. He can’t bring himself to ignore Geno, no matter how much he wants to go with Philippe tonight. He sighs, trying to tamp down on what he’s feeling. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this Philippe, a friend needs me,” he pulls back a little bit, disengaging. He catches a look of astonishment on Philippe’s face. Sid knows he’s being really rude, hates himself for this… but Geno. Geno’s anguished eyes after the Brass goal. Geno knowing he’d let them down. He can’t leave Geno alone tonight. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t expect this. I’m sorry I let you think…” He stops, unsure how to finish that and retain any dignity. 

Philippe is pulling back as well, petulance blending with some anger. He looks less attractive like that. In a way, Sid is relieved.

“Go be with your little friend then!” Philippe hisses. Woah… Sid know’s he’s being a dick, but that’s an over the top response. Sid backs off quickly. 

“I said I’m sorry,” There’s really nothing else he can say, so he turns and leaves, heading back to the hotel. He thinks he feels a pair of intense blue eyes boring into his back long after he leaves. 

*--*--*--*  
Geno’s face, when he opens the door to Sid’s knock, is worth it all. Particularly when Sid waves the ice cream at him as he enters the room. 

“I didn’t think you were coming - you didn’t reply,” Geno says. He looks relieved.

“I went to get this,” Sid responds. No point in explaining where Sid was when Geno texted. He’s already had to text both Flower and Duper to let them know he’s back safely. Not that he needs a minder, but he can’t convince either of his team mates of that. 

Geno’s arm wraps around him and pulls him into a hug. Sid leans in, returning it, letting Geno-smell and Geno-warmth wash away any lingering dark sensuality from earlier. Yeah, Geno needs him tonight, but Sid always needs Geno. Gorgeous, sexy strangers in bars are a stop-gap, not a substitute, no matter how sexy they are. 

He reaches up, gently touches Geno’s cheek. 

“How are you doing?”

“Not.. not so good. I was stupid tonight, let the team down.”

“You didn’t let the team down. We wouldn’t even have been in it if you hadn’t scored in the second.” Geno shouldn’t have given away the penalty, and Sid won’t ever lie to him about that, but without him, they’d have lost the game anyway. He just has to get Geno to realise that. 

“I’m glad you texted - wasn’t sure you wanted company,” Sid says as he moves past, grabbing onto Geno’s hand still around Sid’s neck and using it to tow him all the way into the room. Geno ducks his head, biting his lip. 

“I wasn’t sure you wanted to spend time with me tonight,” Geno’s face is twisted, tentative. Sid mock-bats his eyelids and grins. 

“I always want to spend time with you,” Sid says with a laugh. And there’s absolute truth in that, but he doesn’t think Geno will hear it and still doesn’t know what Geno would think of it. So he wraps the truth in a joke, and lets it out. Geno’s face lightens.

“And I even brought you ice cream! I don’t bring ice cream to people who let the team down.” He lets his tone become serious again. “It was a stupid penalty tonight, I’m not going to argue with you on that. But I’ll keep telling you - until you hear me and believe me - that you did not let the team down tonight. The team lost. That loss is not just on you, it’s on all of us.” 

Geno sighs. “I’m trying to believe you.”

Sid smiles gently up at him. “Ok,” he says. “So long as you keep trying. About that ice cream?”

*--*--*--*  
Sid goes onto the ice with a light heart. It’s been several weeks since they lost to the New Orleans Brass, and now they get the chance to face them on home ice this evening. Coming off the back of a small winning streak, and with a team which is playing well together, he’s optimistic, and the team is too; in the locker room before morning skate, they were chirping and grumbling as usual, but all light and easy, no edges, all smooth. He smiles as he skates around, working his muscles warm, just enjoying being on the ice, catching the edge of the comments flying back and forth as the team warms up, but staying out of it, concentrating on himself right now. 

Something - someone? - in the seating catches his eye as he skates by and he glances back over his shoulder as he passes. 

Philippe. 

He stumbles, almost losing an edge. That a random, almost-hook up should show up at a practice session in an entirely different city pours a cold bucket of shock over him. He looks across, sure he must be wrong, some trick of the light… but no, it definitely is him. Even across the ice and through the plexi, Sid can see the intense blue eyes watching him, feel the sizzle of desire as Philippe’s gaze catches his own. He drags his gaze away, mind racing. Seriously, why is Philippe here? He obviously knows who Sid is - what does he want? Nausea sweeps through him as he thinks about the possible answers to that question - very few of them are good and most of them involve the world finding out about things in Sid’s life he has no intention of ever revealing. He tries not to panic, tries to remain focussed, ignore him, but his mind keeps spinning around - what does he want? 

“Sid are you joining us anytime today?” The annoyed shout across the ice manages to penetrate his whirling thoughts. He turns in, joins the group, but it’s still hard to focus. He knows he’s getting looks from some of the team as he fumbles his way through skate, but he can’t stop stealing glances at Philippe, wondering, wondering, wondering, panicking. 

“It is him, isn’t it?” Olli says to him as they take a break at the side of the rink, waiting for their pass. 

“What? Who are you talking about?” Sid has no idea. 

“The guy you are looking at,” Olli looks over at Phillippe. “Philippe de Courcy, owner of the Brass. I saw an interview with him last week.”

Sid feels his world tilt again. His random almost-hook up owns an NHL team and is now in Pittsburgh, about to watch his team play the Penguins.

“Sid… Sid! Are you ok?” Olli is staring at him, but Sid is only vaguely aware of what is being said to him as he struggles to understand that information and what it means. At least an NHL owner won’t have any interest in outing him… he hopes… but…. and his mind freezes again and just goes back into panicking. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and looks up to see Geno. 

“Sid, what’s wrong, you look awful,” Beyond Geno, Olli is defending himself to Tanger and Duper, looking flustered, uncertain. “What did Olli say to you?” There’s a hard edge there and Sid can’t let the rookie take any blame for this.

“Nothing… it wasn’t him… I’m…” Sid stammers, he can’t bring himself to say fine, but how on earth do you tell anyone that you nearly hooked up with the owner of a rival team? Only you didn’t because you bailed to go to the aid of a team mate. How do you even begin to explain that?

Fortunately he’s saved from having to even try by the intervention of Dan. Their coach is both concerned about his captain’s lack of focus on a game day, and seriously pissed that so many others are being disrupted by it. Suitably reminded and chastened, Sid tries to shut out all outside thoughts to concentrate on _ice_ and _pucks_ and _plays_ to the exclusion of everything else. He does know he’s only deferring the inquisition though. And he knows Philippe is still standing rink-side watching him. He can feel those glorious blue eyes on him. Hockey. Concentrate… 

At practice end, they head to the locker room, Sid delaying on the ice to try and put off the inquisition. Dan catches him on the ice nevertheless, even before the rest of the team get to him. 

“Is there something on your mind Sid? Anything you want to talk about?” And Sid still doesn’t have anything to answer with, no explanations. He tries for media bland. 

“Sorry, it’s nothing, I’ll be fully focussed tonight.” Dan looks at him - he’s been too long in this game to not notice hockey player hiding in cliche. 

“Ok, just remember you said that.” 

Sid decides to quit while he’s ahead. He’s relieved to see Philippe has gone, so leaves the ice and makes finally for the locker room. He’s just about there, when a figure emerges from the corridor. 

“Sidney,” The French accent is unmistakable and Sidney’s gut lurches. Oh. Not gone then. Just relocated. “Do you have a moment?” 

“Philippe,” and Sid is about to brush him off, but makes the mistake of really looking at him. What he sees in those startling blue eyes is instant heat, desire winding through him irresistibly. He braces himself, only just stops himself moving towards Philippe. 

“I think we were interrupted last time. I was hoping we would be able to pick up where we left off - maybe after the game tonight,” He moves closer to Sid, drops his voice to a whisper, eyes pinning Sid’s, predatorial gaze focussed entirely on him. 

“I told you last time, I wanted you. I want to have you under me, to lick you, taste you, feel you writhing, make you feel like you’ve never felt before. Take every inch of you and claim it as mine.” 

There’s no subtlety to it, no coyness, just a dark, sensual possessiveness that turns Sid’s mouth dry, makes it hard to breathe, makes him ache for Philippe’s touch. He closes his eyes against the sudden want, trying to clear his mind. He needs to remember exactly why this is such a bad idea. He shakes his head mutely, feels the heat of Philippe suddenly close to him. 

The whisper is urgent in his ear. “Don’t refuse me. You know you can’t refuse me. You want this so badly, I can see it in every line of you, every muscle, every breath, every movement. Open your eyes!” And Sid’s eyes snap open before he can even think about obeying. Philippe skims his finger across Sid’s cheek, his sapphire blue eyes examining Sid’s face minutely. Sid finds himself losing focus as he tracks their movements, sinking into their gaze, becoming a mass of want and need. 

“Good boy,” There’s a hint of a purr in Philippe’s voice, which sends shivers racing down Sid’s spine and deep into his groin. “Oh we’ll be so good together,” Philippe’s fingers move across, caressing his ear lobe, flooding Sid with heat, bringing a flush across his cheeks. Philippe smiles as he sees Sid’s reaction, Sid melting against his hand. He’s trying to remember why he shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s being lost in the feelings that Philippe is whipping up in him. 

“Look at you, so undone and I’ve only touched you twice. So sensual Sidney, so desperate. I’ll teach you things you could not imagine, take you places you didn’t know you wanted to be taken. I want to take you away with me now, but it would create too much comment for you to leave now. I’ll come back for you after the game, then you will be coming with me Sidney.” 

Sid knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t remember why now, and it seems to be becoming less important as Phillippe talks to him and touches him; there’s a fear in him now that he won’t be able to say no. 

“Maybe if you are too good, I’ll buy you for the Brass,” Philippe trails a finger down Sid’s neck, pausing on the pulse point and pinching gently. But the words jar Sid, he shakes his head. He’s a Penguin for life, doesn’t want to leave them, even for Philippe. He doesn’t want to play hockey without Geno and if he leaves Pittsburgh he won’t have Geno. He pulls back slightly, the reasons why all this are a bad idea rushing through his mind again. 

As he does so, the locker room door opens and a tall lanky figure sticks his head out. It’s as if thinking of Geno summons him. 

“Sid are you coming? You need to shower, nap and eat before game!” Geno sounds grumpy but his voice trails off as he sees Sid and Philippe in the corridor, how they are standing and the look on Sid’s face. Sid stumbles back quickly, moving away from Philippe’s hand, his face flushing at how it must have looked. 

“Sid you ok?” Geno says sharply, crossing to stand beside him, wrapping one arm around Sid’s shoulders, glaring at Philippe. “Is he bothering you?” Tanger and Flower appear at the door, following Geno out, drawn by Geno’s words and tone. 

Philippe speaks before Sid can even try to come up with an answer. He sounds annoyed, and for an instant Sid wants to sink to his knees apologising. He battles down the feeling. 

“I met Mr Crosby in New Orleans. I was just renewing our acquaintance and arranging to go out with him after the game tonight.” 

Two pairs of surprised eyes swing around to Sid; the third pair – Geno’s – stay very firmly glaring at Philippe. 

Philippe looks at Sid, expecting agreement. Sid leans back into the warmth from Geno’s arm, seeping through his pads. He draws strength from it. 

“Yeah, we met in New Orleans, but I was just explaining to Philippe that I won’t be able to go out.” He draws an unsteady breath, makes his unwilling body shape the next words. “It’s not a good idea for me to go out with the owner of another team.” 

Philippe looks thunderstruck, his reassuring manner gone in an instant. His face pales, becoming furious, his eyes flashing. Sid feels the urge to placate him, to agree so the fury is turned back, but Geno is a solid steadying presence at his side, giving him the ability to step back. 

“I think you should go now,” Sid manages in an even tone, no hint of his turmoil in it. It’s not quite his captain’s voice, but it’s close. 

“I will see you this evening Sidney.” Philippe’s tone is allowing no refusal. “Gentlemen,” he nods at the other Penguins and leaves. Even angry, Sid reflects, he still retains that elegant sensuality as he watches him walk down the corridor. 

Unsurprisingly, Flower gets in first. “What the fuck is going on Sid? You need to tell us now!” 

Duper joins them from where he has been watching from the locker room doorway. 

“Are you trying to change teams and not tell us?” he says. There’s a choked sound from Geno at that. 

“And what is that dude’s problem? He’s a multi-millionaire, surely he doesn’t need to smell of rotten meat?” Tanger joins in. The sheer incongruity of his question surprises a semi-hysterical laugh out of Sid. Everyone looks at Tanger. “You didn’t smell it? He reeked,” he says to them. Flower shakes his head. “Shit, just me then.” He stops, looks thoughtful. 

“Sid is the only one who stinks,” says Geno, but his tone is worried and confused, and he’s chirping on reflex. “Go and shower and change and you’ll tell us about this when you are done.” 

Sid knows there will be no escape or avoiding the conversation/interrogation, not when all four are so adamant. At least the shower will give him time to compose his thoughts and work out what the hell just happened. 

He comes out of the shower and dresses in an empty locker room. Well, empty, if you can ignore Geno, Flower, Tanger and Duper who are all watching him intently while trying to pretend they aren’t. He’d really like to ignore them, but he can’t. He sits in his stall, waiting for it to start with a sinking feeling. 

“So how did you meet Mr de Courcy, and what are his intentions towards you?” Of course Flower begins. The archaic form of the question belies the concern underneath it. He’s frowning slightly, head tilted inquisitively as he watches Sid. 

“After the last game in New Orleans, I went out and met him at a bar. We talked for a bit, but I didn’t recognise him and I left,” Sid says defensively. 

“Hmmm,” Flower knows Sid is oversimplifying. Sid wonders if he’ll let it lie. It’s Flower. He doesn’t. 

“Would that be the gay bar you went to?” Geno’s head jerks up at that, but Duper is nodding in realisation. “Did he try to pick you up?” Sid sighs. Flower having your back is a double-edged sword, to be used against you if he feels it necessary. 

“That would be the one and yes he did,” Sid says resignedly, blushing slightly. It’s not the way he’d have chosen to come out to Geno and Tanger, but only Geno is reacting. Damn French-Canadians and their hive mind. 

“C’mon Sid, tell us. We want to help and we can’t if we have to drag it out of you,” Duper says looking worried. 

Sid tries not to hear the plea, but it resonates. He wants to tell them how shaken and scared he is, but it’s battling his need to remain private, to not expose himself, even to his friends. He slumps into his stall, head in hands – there are very few people he can trust more than these four. 

“We only spoke briefly in the bar, but I was so into him, I was pretty much ready to leave with him immediately. I’m not – I’m not usually like that, I’ve never done that before, I know I have to be careful. Then, as we were leaving, Geno texted me, so I made my excuses and left. He seemed kind of pissed,” Sid speaks quietly, hesitantly. 

“You left him for me?” Geno grins, sounding a bit smug. 

“Of course I did.” Sid is shocked Geno would think a stranger would be more important than Geno. 

“But why you not tell me you’re gay before?” Geno finally gets to ask. 

“Oh god, can we table that question for now until we hear what is going on between de Courcy and Sid? I so don’t want to get in the middle of that conversation” Tanger jumps in quickly. Sid is only too happy to agree with the request, even if not the reason. He’s got enough rough ground to cover without adding that into the mix. Tanger continues “You said you didn’t know who he was?” 

“No, I didn’t recognise him, didn’t even think I might find an NHL owner in a gay bar in New Orleans. And he gave no sign he knew who I was. When he showed up in practice today, I kind of freaked.” 

There are nods around the room. Sid hadn’t been good at masking his reaction. “I didn’t know who he was. I could see lots of reasons why he was at our practice or what he might do, and none of them were good.” Sid realises he’s shaking as he relives how he felt when he was on the ice, panicking about what could happen. He won’t meet their eyes, stares at the ground, trying to remind himself that it’s not happening, it’s fine. 

“Oh Sid,” says Flower, and there’s such warm understanding in those few words, Sid glances up to meet his eyes. He sees such a depth of empathy in them he has to look away. It’s too much. “We wouldn’t have let that happen.” 

“You might not have had a choice,” Sid says it quietly, knowing the truth of it, how little control they could have had. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder, enfolding the nape of his neck, warm and comforting. He glances sideways to see Geno has reached over, providing more undemanding support. He smiles a little at Geno, heart warm at how his friends are there for him, even now. 

“Olli told me who he was at practice.” He stops and remembers them rounding on Olli. “Did you give Olli a hard time?” 

“We mostly stopped once he told us what he said to you,” Duper replies evasively. 

“Mostly? He’s a rookie!” 

“Sid the look on your face… you didn’t see it,” says Flower. “There’s no way we could ignore it. He’s young, he’ll survive. Think of it as character building.” 

“Ok – but you have to make it up to him,” They nod solemnly. Sid knows they have no intention of doing it. “So I thought he might have come to practice just to scope out the opposition, see what we were doing, but then he spoke to me before I got back in here. And…” Sid pauses. It’s going to sound weirdly needy or desperate to say this to them. 

“And what?” asks Geno. 

“He asked me out after the game. I know that’s a blindingly stupid idea, I know it. But he’d almost talked me into it – as he spoke to me, it was like I couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea. I kept trying, but I just couldn’t, I was overwhelmed. And I knew I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t seem to know that when he was there,” Sid shivers. Now he’s thinking about it, his reaction seems so weird. “Hell just before you turned up Geno, I’d probably have left with him straight from practice if he had asked me to. God his eyes…” Sid is getting turned on just thinking about Philippe’s eyes, wanting to see them, sink into them. The grip on his neck tightens and he’s drawn out of his reverie. 

He looks around, trying to assess what his team-mates are thinking. Geno is looking stormy, Flower is looking concerned, Tanger is staring into the middle distance like he’s trying to remember something. 

“It certainly sounds like you have it bad,” Duper says. “That’s not good. At least you recognise that.” 

“You and him is a remarkably bad idea,” says Flower slowly. 

“Asshole!” mutters Geno. “But your face when I came out – what happened?” 

“He told me,” Sid edits quickly in his head “he’d trade me for me to Brass. That made me realise everything that was wrong. I want to stay playing as a Penguin, I want to play with Geno, and with you guys.” 

“Of course you do,” Geno says. He’s looking very relieved. 

“Wooahhh, I hope that’s him just trying to talk you into bed,” says Duper. “That’s a pretty extreme way to get a hook-up!” 

“Hang on, back up,” says Tanger. “ So you met him, fell for him instantly because he’s sex on legs, couldn’t take your eyes of him. Get distracted by Geno. He shows up here again, you find out who he is, realise what a spectacularly stupid idea anything between you is, but still almost agree to it anyway because he’s irresistible sex on legs, and it’s only Geno distracting you again which stops you from agreeing?” 

Geno growls. “Its not just me, Sid knows his own mind.” 

Sid ignores him, even though he’s grateful. “ Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said,” says Sid. Put it like that it sounds a bit ridiculous. He’s not sixteen and only able to think about sex. But then he doesn’t think he ever was sixteen and only able to think about sex. 

“You mentioned his eyes?” Tanger continues, ignoring the way Sid responded. Sid draws a breath, thinking of them, feels the need and want creeping back in, shivers. There’s silence in the room as they take in his reaction. 

“I think that’s your answer about his eyes,” says Flower. 

“That’s – I don’t think that’s good,” says Tanger, biting his lip in thought. “Look – I’ve got to go check something. This might not be all it seems, but I need to go check. If it is what I’m thinking… I might need to speak to you before the game.” He stands up making for the door. “Sid, for now, I don’t think it will be a good idea for you to be alone with this guy.” 

“I think that’s the best we can do for now,” says Flower. “We have a game to think about.” He pauses. “Unless you think we are cockblocking you – that you really want to be with him? It should be your choice, no matter what we think,” The hand on Sid’s neck goes very still. 

“No, I don’t think I do. Never mind that it’s a really bad idea given who he is, he’s...” Sid pauses trying to describe a vague feeling. “I feel overwhelmed around him, and not in a good way. Like I’m losing my sense of self, I’m not me. Does that seem mad?” 

“Tabernak de calisse!” Tanger swears. “I really don’t like this. Just let me check. I’ll talk to you later,” and he hits the locker room doors fast, moving quickly. 

Flower raises an eyebrow, and nods once, also getting up. “Geno, will you stay with Sid until the game?” 

“Sure Flower. I have some questions for Sid anyway,” Sid winces – he’d hoped Geno had forgotten about the gay bar, after hearing about everything else. 

Flower makes his way to the door, Duper following. 

“Don’t worry Sid, we’ll protect you from the big bad wolf,” Duper says as he leaves the locker room behind Flower. 

“Sid why didn’t you tell me you were gay? Flower knew, Duper knew. They weren’t surprised about the gay bar.” Geno is looking at him. 

“I tell them where I am when I go out. Flower found out and had a fit about me going out in strange cities where no-one knew where I was.” A fit is almost too simple a way to describe the furious Flower he had had to placate when Flower figured out what Sidney was doing. The problem was he had known Flower was worried for him, and had reasons to be worried for him. 

Geno nods. “Good idea, make sure you’re safe. But I’d have helped.” 

Sid closes his eyes. He’d rather have stopped going out than had Geno helping. 

“I was worried how you would react.” It’s not the most diplomatic answer he can give, but it’s honest even if it isn’t all the truth. Geno frowns, considering it, his brows drawing down more and more as he thinks the answer through. 

“You think I would react badly?” 

“I didn’t know how you would react.” He stops, bites his lip. How to say he’d rather have the hope of something one day, than lose all hope any form of rejection would bring? How to say that without making the kind of declaration he knows he dare not make? “I was scared it would change things between us and I didn’t want to lose that. To lose us.” It’s as close as he dare bring himself. 

Geno looks sad. “Sometimes Sid, I’m not sure you know me well. Maybe it does change things, knowing you like men,” Sid stops breathing, forces himself to keep looking at Geno. “Maybe it feels like I have chance now.” 

Sid stares at him, mouth dropping open in surprise. Did he really mean that? Geno smiles at him. “But, we have game tonight. We need to talk about this more, later, not now. Too much going on now. Philippe, game.” He holds Sids gaze until nods his agreement. “I need to take you home, have sleep, get food and let you get your game head on, or Flower will kill me.” He pulls Sid into a hug, and Sid thinks... hopes… he feels the press of lips to his head. 

*--*--*--* 

Back at Consol, before the game, Sid is working hard to get his game head on, sticking firmly to his routine. Geno is with him, watching over him. 

The relative peace is shattered when Tanger, Duper and Flower find him. 

“Sid, got a moment?” asks Duper. 

“Do we really need to do this now? We’ve got a game.” Sid is exasperated. Whatever they want, it’s got to be related to this morning, and he doesn’t want any more distractions. 

“Yes, it’s important,” says Tanger. “I said there might be a problem and there is.” He takes a breath, visibly steeling himself. “This is going to sound crazy. But in Quebec, there’s an old folktale about people who prey on humans – nowadays we’d call them vampires.” 

“Tanger…” 

Tanger continues, ignoring Sid. “They attract in their victims, choosing a target, overwhelming them with lust, desire, until their victim goes willingly with the vampire. They’ll abandon everything to go with the vampire. I think de Courcy is a vampire.” 

Cold anger sweeps through him. “Tanger, what the fuck?” He would have thought they’d know how he was feeling, and he doesn’t need stupid jokes. “It’s a story, it’s not real!” 

Tanger shakes his head slightly. “Yeah, I know how it sounds, but it is real. My family – we know about vampires. We’ve always been told that it’s a family thing to be able to tell them from humans - they look just like us. I wasn’t sure how we did it, but I spoke with my grand-mere and I think I can do it too. That smell of rotten meat? That’s how those in my family can detect vampires. Grand-mere was very clear when I spoke to her. She says I’m the first in my generation to show the gift.” 

“It’s ridiculous.” But Sid is less sure now. 

“Is it Sid? You have not been behaving like yourself around this guy,” says Geno thoughtfully. 

“You too Geno?” 

“No reason to think Tanger is making this up. Why would he? Do you think your attraction to de Courcy is normal?” 

Sid thinks back to how he felt, what was said, the dark, overwhelmingly sensuality, the possessiveness, his feeling of becoming lost, of being like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He shivers and shakes his head slowly. “I’m not sure I do. But how do I know I’m not just attracted, and that I’m just trying to make excuses for myself?” 

Flower rolls his eyes at Sid. “Because we know you? This isn't you Sid." 

“Grand-mere said that they use their eyes to mesmerise. You’ve reacted to just a mention of his eyes a couple of times now.” 

A memory strikes him, hard. He looks at Tanger, ashen-faced. “He ordered me to open my eyes when I was trying to tell him no and I couldn’t keep doing it when I was looking at him,” he whispers, ashamed to admit it. He looks at Tanger, starting to believe it. “What would he do?” Tanger seems to understand the question. 

“Some of what you’ve heard about vampires is correct – most of it isn’t. But they do drink blood, and they’ll usually kill their victims by taking too much blood. But that’s more casual for them. There also seems to be a need to enthral, to select someone to entrap and keep for longer. Almost as a pet – to feed off, enslave, destroy, to strip them of everything as well as taking their blood.” He shrugs in sympathy, knowing he cannot soften what he has to tell Sid. 

“They take longer to kill those they do that too. But they’ll kill them too eventually. And when they select someone to enthral, grand-mere says they are more persistent once they have found someone they want to entrap like that. I think de Courcy didn’t like being told no in New Orleans and is trying to do that to you - from what you’ve described, this isn’t casual.” Sid shudders. Even knowing this, knowing how it would end, the attraction is still there, and that, if nothing else, stills his attempts at denials. 

“Sid we won’t let it happen,” says Geno fervently. 

“How?” replies Sid tiredly. It seems impossible to him. He knows he can’t trust himself. “Tanger, how can we stop him?” 

“It’s hard. All the movie nonsense – doesn’t work. But he doesn’t live here, and he has to leave eventually. So we don’t give him the chance. We make sure you’re not alone. Grand-mere says he won’t risk doing anything in front of witnesses. He backed off just now.They are very secretive.” 

“This happened to a guy I knew in juniors,” says Duper. There’s a silence while they take this in. Flower looks at him. 

“You knew a guy in juniors who attracted a stalker NHL-team-owning vampire who wanted to suck his blood and enthral him?” he says. 

“Well, ok, if you put it like that, then no. Some girl was stalking him for months though. We couldn’t leave him alone in case she appeared,” Duper acknowledges. 

Flower rolls his eyes. “Completely the same then. But Duper is right. Until this guy is out of Pittsburgh, we’re not leaving you alone, Sid. No chance you can get a boyfriend before then? That would do it too.” Flower looks at him significantly. Of course he knows about how Sid feels about Geno. 

“Why a boyfriend, Flower?” Geno asks. 

“From what I remember of the tales, legend has it they can only do this with single people. Those of us in love are less susceptible.” Tanger is nodding in agreement. “But it’s got to be reciprocated.” 

“But I’m in… “ Sid stops quickly. 

“Exactly,” says Flower. “You said you were able to leave him the first time when Geno texted you?” Geno looks at Flower, a thoughtful look in his eyes. 

“Would need a special boyfriend Sid, to take you on with a vampire in tow,” he says. 

Sid wants to get off that subject and quickly. “So we know what I’m up against, and we have a plan, thanks to you guys.” He looks at them. It’s not a great situation, but Sid isn’t alone in facing it, and that gives him hope and courage to continue onwards. “Now all we need to do is beat the Brass too.” 

“No vampire-owned team is winning in our barn,” Tanger says darkly. “My grand-mere has told me she will disown me if they do - she seems to think it would be a slight on our family honour.” 

*--*--*--* 

Sid feels tired and drawn before he even starts the game. As soon as he skates onto the ice, he’s aware of Philippe watching from one of the boxes, feels that gaze following him across the rink. Something must show in his face, as Geno touches his elbow as he skates. 

“Sid?” Undemanding brown eyes look at him with sympathy, letting him forget blue ones for a moment. 

“He’s definitely here,” and Sid’s mouth quirks, a jut of his chin in the direction of the boxes.  
Geno swears in Russian. “We’re here too, don’t forget it.” Sid nods in acknowledgement, skates on, focussing on the ice and his skating. 

The game starts and he knows he’s not playing well. Too much in the time before the game. He feels about half a step behind where he would normally be, and he’s having to battle the puck to get it to do what he wants. The two blessings are that the Brass players seem oddly hesitant to go hard against him (and he tries very hard not to think about why that could be, the beat of those possessive eyes on him throughout the game) and Geno. Geno, who takes every incursion of the Brass into the Penguins defensive end as a personal challenge, rallying his line over and over again to beat them back, push harder, score. Geno, who takes out his anger and frustration on the puck, the Brass players and the Brass goal in that order. When he scores his third, the fierce scowl he has been wearing all night breaks into a joy-filled smug grin. Sid is drawn into the pleasure, washing through him, letting him go over the boards and use the space he’s being given, come through the neutral zone fast with the puck then place it onto Duper’s tape with a clear shooting lane in front of him. 

In the celly which follows, Geno manages to say into Sid’s ear “Vampires can’t stop you Sid!” Sid shakes his head. 

“Vampires can’t stop us Geno!” Geno grins at him some more. 

The Brass manage to steal one back, a frantic snipe that Flower is furious about, but are held at that. 

In the locker room after the game, the talk is of Geno’s hat trick, media focussing in on it. Sid answers their questions blandly and smoothly, just repeating their questions back at them. He ignores Tanger’s suggestion that he dedicate the hat-trick to Tanger’s grand-mere. Geno has conveniently forgotten all his English again and hides out in the showers. 

Sid is aware of the guys hanging back while he finishes with the press, so he powers through his post-game routine. 

“We’re going out to celebrate,” says Duper. “The guys are waiting for us at the pub. No arguments Sid, we’re not taking no for an answer.” 

Sid ignores that. “Is that wise?” 

“Safer than staying home alone, rewatching the game,” Tanger replies, all too accurately. “Don’t worry, we have a rota for who stays with you. You won’t be cramping our style.” It’s typical of his team that they can be so protective while giving him so much shit at the same time. He wonders what he did to deserve them, while wondering what he did to deserve them. 

“Geno gets the short straw – he’ll be staying with you tonight. Or you with him if you’d prefer,” Flower adds grinning, only a little maliciously. Sid looks at him. He does want to know what Geno meant from earlier… but it seems like his helpful teammates are doing what they can to assist too, and he kind of hates that. 

“Is that really necessary?” He’s trying hard not to sound ungrateful, or complaining. 

“Sid, we’re not leaving you alone while he is here!” 

Sid isn’t proof against Geno’s earnestness or obvious concern and can’t protest anymore. He can glower though, and he does so at Flower. He should feel grateful – he’d like to feel a little less babysat though. Flower looks back at him innocently. Flower hasn’t been innocent since the day he was born. 

*--*--*--* 

They’re nearly at their cars when Tanger sneezes violently and starts scrubbing at his nose. 

“He’s nearby,” he says urgently. “Keep going to the cars.” 

“Sidney, I only want to talk with you,” says a voice from the shadows, a tall figure emerging into the pooled light. Sidney feels the voice sliding into his bones, velvet and sharpness combined, drawing him to a halt. 

“No, that’s not all that you want to do,” answers Flower. He sounds angry. “We know what you are!” 

“What am I Marc-Andre?” Philippe responds mockingly. “A successful businessman, the owner of an NHL team? It’s not your place to question me. I’m here to talk to Sidney,” Flower splutters. “I thought we were going out tonight. Sidney, did you try to change our plans?” 

He sounds chiding now, like he’s talking to a disobedient child. He looks directly at Sid, ignoring everyone else, his focus all on Sid, trying to catch his eyes. 

Sid swallows, looks away. Even with all he knows about Philippe, he still finds it hard to disagree with him. 

“No, I never agreed to do that.” He gets the words out through a tight throat and a dry mouth, ignoring the voice in his brain telling him to agree with Philippe, to blow the guys off, to go with Philippe. Without thinking, he looks to Philippe to see his reaction and Philippe’s gaze snares his own, holding it. He feels the weight of Philippe’s eyes, a seductive promise whispering over his skin, a promise of ecstasy and pain, of submission, of yielding everything to Philippe. He sobs, he doesn’t want it, but he does, how much he does, and he can’t break free of those eyes, stumbles a pace back trying to open more space between them. 

“Come to me Sidney. You know you want to come with me.” 

Sid shakes his head. Every instinct is screaming now that he doesn’t want this, but the pull is too strong, too much and he’s scared he’ll snap and give in. He feels scraped raw. 

“His place is where he wants it to be!” growls Tanger. “And that is not with you.” 

Philippe smiles. It’s a smile of razor edges and silken bonds. It’s confident, certain of victory. Sid shivers and can no longer tell if it is in fear or longing. 

“Look at him – he wants to be with me. He’s already so hot for me, so desperate, so needy. Can you doubt he wants to be with me? Come, Sidney.” There’s a commanding edge to Philippe’s tone now, and Sid feels his will weakening. He knows he shouldn’t go with Philippe, that he doesn’t want to go with him, but he can’t remember why not. And so much of him just wants to go to Philippe, sink into his arms. He leans forward, starting to shift towards Philippe. 

There’s an angry rumble from behind him and Sidney suddenly finds himself enfolded in long strong arms reaching around him, supporting him gently, but implacably. 

“Sid’s place is with me.” Geno says it with certainty, his accent pronounced, spinning Sid around so his head is nestled into Geno’s shoulder. He brings one hand up to block Philippe from Sid’s view, shielding him. The tension in his body escapes Sid in a giant huff of breath and he’s gasping, inhaling clean, sharp Geno-smell, gaining strength from that simple contact. Sid’s thoughts are clearing now. 

“How convenient. Does Sidney actually know this?” 

Geno shrugs. “Who do you think he left you to be with in New Orleans?” 

“Geno texted him, Sid went,” confirms Flower. He’s moved closer, is standing between Philippe and Sid and Geno. Sid glances down, realises Tanger and Duper are there too. Their feet are set as though about to push off on the ice, ready for action. 

“Sid’s place is with me,” repeats Geno. “I love him.” He says it calmly and with such certainty.  
For an instant, Sid freezes as his mind repeats what Geno has just said, confirming that it means what he wants it to mean, that he can’t be mistaken. He raises his head, looking up into Geno’s face. Geno smiles tenderly down at him, his brown eyes soft and light. 

“Geno,” Sid whispers, his voice breaking. Geno rubs the back of his head, one hand pressed protectively across the small of his back. 

“Shhhh, we’ve got this, Sid. We’ve got you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Geno’s voice is low, reassuring, for his ears and the ears of the French Canadians alone. 

“Sidney, look at me now!” Philippe’s voice is sharp, imperious, commanding and jars after Geno’s supportive reassurance. Sid closes his eyes, pulling in tighter to Geno. He’s fighting the order, but he’s tired, the ongoing battle to deny, to say no wearing on him more and more. If he looks…But he can’t. They’re all fighting for him too, he can’t let them down, he can’t let Geno down. 

“Geno, I want to look at you, not him. But it’s hard,” he whispers, brokenly. The hand in his hair tightens protectively, shielding and gentling. 

“Then look at me, Sid, I won’t stop you. I don’t blame you either, I’m handsome, he’s ugly. But I’m Russian, so what do you expect?” Geno continues to smile down at Sid, a light in his eyes as he looks at him. Sid realises that he’s seen that light for a very long time, but it’s taken until tonight for him to understand what it means. It means that despite everything, he has a shot at his hope coming true. He just can’t let that shot go by; he’s waited too long with so little hope. 

“Geno, stay with me? I want to be with you – I love you too.” 

Geno’s arms tighten even more around Sid, pulling him in so close. His face is radiant as he gazes down at Sid. “Best,” he mutters with a catch in his voice. Sid has never felt so safe, so wanted, so protected and he leans into Geno, pulling him closer, snuggling in. He didn’t know until now how well they fitted together, and for an interval, they are simply oblivious of everything else, as they share this moment. 

More quickly than he wants, sound around them intrudes again. 

Philippe is clearly shocked and furious. “Sidney, I have claimed you, you are mine!” he snarls, low and threatening, but he’s being shouted down by an excitedly bouncing Flower. 

“About fucking time too! Suck on that Mr Vampire, Sid isn’t yours!” he’s practically crowing. Tanger looks at him, eyebrows raised. 

“Flower is correct. Sid is claimed now, but not by you. He is not yours. No-one else here is susceptible. I suggest you go back to New Orleans, Mr de Courcy, and don’t bother us again. Leave now!” Tanger’s words are clear and direct, confident. 

“Don’t believe this is finished Sidney!” It seems more desperation to have the last word than any real threat. Silence falls, broken only by the sound of his footsteps, leaving. 

“Ok, you can come out now, he’s gone,” says Tanger. 

“Please come out now,” says Duper. “We need to get Flower calmed down.” 

Geno relaxes his hold on Sid, letting him turn around in Geno’s arms to face the French Canadians. 

Flower stills. “He was a scary dude. God Sid, how did you not? I felt like I’d have crawled over broken glass for the guy, and it wasn’t even directed at me.” He shakes his head. 

“Is that why you told him to suck it then?” Duper asks. “Trying to overcompensate?” 

“I thought it would get the point across” Flower attempts to say it with dignity, but fails. He shrugs. “Sid, are you ok?” 

Sid looks at them, trying to comprehend what has happened this evening. There’s a bright happiness flowing through him, that he keeps prodding at in disbelief that it’s happened, that he’s entitled to feel it. His fear is being washed away by the tide of that happiness, but it’s leaving him bone-tired in its wake. 

“I’m good - I’m happy – Geno…” The question is too big, it’s too difficult to try and describe everything he feels right now. He feels Geno’s arm tighten protectively again, soothing him. 

“I think you look shattered Sid. We need to get you home,” says Duper gently. “We can order take out at yours.” There’s a murmur of agreement. 

“What, you didn’t think we were going to just abandon you now and leave you alone?” asks Flower, seeing Sid’s confusion. “You’ll have plenty of time to make out with Geno, but we need to know you are safe, celebrate the game, and celebrate vanquishing the evil vampire.” 

“But you’re too tired to go out and going out without you would be wrong,” says Tanger. “Besides, I do want to make sure he’s really gone.” Sid looks at him. Tanger shrugs. “Better safe than sorry. I was wrong that he wouldn’t come after you when others were around.” 

“Don’t worry, we can throw them out when pizza is gone,” says Geno to Sid. “They won’t stay for ever. But good idea to have them around for a bit longer, even if Flower is annoying.” Flower flips him off in response to that comment. 

Sid isn’t quite sure it is, there’s a lot he wants to say (and do) to Geno without an audience of interested, invested French Canadians. But it doesn’t seem like he’s getting a vote. Besides...  
“Pizza? That’s not on the diet plan.” There are groans from around him. 

“I think you’ll find that Quebecois legend specifically states that pizza keeps vampires at bay. That’s been your problem Sid, you haven’t eaten enough of it.” Flower grins at him. 

“I hear vodka works too,” says Geno. 

“It sounds like it’s important to try them both, just in case then,” says Duper. “Better safe than sorry.” 

*--*--*--*  
There must be a term for a horde of French-Canadians hoovering up pizza and vodka. If there isn’t, there really should be. Something that captures the way they take up the maximum space available, fill the room with laughter, chirps and ridiculous claims and stories. Geno is holding his own amongst them though, Sid anchored firmly against his side by an arm, both of them reluctant to let go. Sid is mostly content to watch them, letting the good spirits in the room relax and soothe him, while he absorbs everything that has happened today, Geno’s hand rubbing idle caresses into his side, Sid aware of its smallest movement. 

It takes a while, but finally, there is no more pizza. And even more astoundingly, no desire for any more pizza. Sid hadn’t been entirely sure that would ever have happened, watching the way they’d consumed it. Even the vodka consumption is slowing, although Geno has (by his own standards) barely wet his lips and Sid hasn’t touched his. Whatever happens later, he doesn’t want to be drunk for it, hopes to remember it with bright clarity. 

Flower looks over at him, considering. 

“Should we go, Sid?” There’s a slight smile playing around his lips, mischief in his eyes. Sid looks at him blandly, refusing to be drawn. 

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Flower.” 

“Don’t say that Sid. He’ll still be here at breakfast, still being annoying,” says Geno, shaking his head. 

“Will you still be here at breakfast, Geno?” Flower is irrepressible, his smile getting broader. 

“If I am, I won’t be annoying.” Smugness is radiating off him. 

“I don’t know. I bet you can be very… annoying” Flower purses his lips suggestively, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“Yes.” Geno is smirking now. “I can be. Sad you won’t get to find out?” 

“I’ll leave that to Sid I think,” Flower shakes his head at Geno. 

“But he’ll never get to find out, if you stay here, being annoying.” Geno is implacable. 

Flower snorts, laughing, holding up his hands in surrender. “Ok, we’ll take the less than subtle hint from the not-polite Russian and leave you two alone.” 

“I’ll call you a car, you aren’t driving now.” Sid is adamant, gettting on his phone and making the call. 

“Sure,” says Tanger. “Flower can come around for breakfast and get his car at the same time.” 

“Absolutely not.” It’s Geno’s turn to be adamant. “We get indigestion, trying to eat breakfast with that face watching us.” There’s an explosion of cursing from said face. “I don’t know how Vero stands it - she has patience of a saint.” 

The cursing stops. “She is too good for me,” agrees Flower, face falling. 

“Oh god, he’s gone maudlin, it really is time to get him home,” says Duper. “Next he’ll be telling us he loves us all very much, and that’s just wrong.” 

“I don’t love you,” Flower assures Duper. 

“I’m relieved.” 

They are saved from further confessions by the arrival of the car, and the bustle of rounding up belongings and getting out to the car. Flower takes a moment to hug Sid. 

“You’ll be ok? You sure about this?” he says. 

Sid nods. 

“I do love you, you know.You’re like my baby brother.” 

“Flower, you really are drunk. Go home.” But Sid smiles at him anyway. Some truths only can be said when drunk. 

The house is so much quieter, and Sid is so much more aware of Geno once it’s just them. He’s wanted this for so long it seems, he still can’t quite believe. 

“Are you sure you’re willing to take me on, since I’ve had a vampire in tow?” It’s meant to be light, but he can hear a note of anxiety underneath it. Geno smiles, reaching for him and Sid moves towards him. 

“I said you would need a special boyfriend, be willing to take you on. Fortunately, I’m a special boyfriend. I’m very willing to take you on, vampire or no vampire.” And he wraps his arms around Sid, and Sid? Sid feels like he’s surrounded by light and love and yes, desire too but this is honest desire built upon trust and respect and admiration and love. There’s no fear in him when he tilts his head up and captures Geno’s mouth with his own, demonstrating him how he feels. This, this feels like home. 


End file.
